


Scribe of the soul

by morganstern



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: F/M, Gen, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, references to past Jane/Bran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganstern/pseuds/morganstern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting between Jane and Will, several years on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scribe of the soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lejays17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lejays17/gifts).



> So I can't be the only one who hates the forced memory erasure at the end of the series, right? But hey, at least Bran and the Drew siblings aren't trapped in an immortal life on earth while waiting for the end of human existence.
> 
> This fic emerged out of concern over how Will and Jane are doing, is what I'm trying to say. Hope you enjoy!

“Jane? Jane Drew?”

Jane turned at the half-familiar voice, catching sight of a tall man in a long coat who stood just a few feet away from her on the sidewalk. He had brown hair, and ordinary, pleasant features - not a distinctive face, but one she recognized at once.

“Will Stanton!” she exclaimed. "Oh, it's been years!" With a lack of self-consciousness that surprised her, she pulled him into a friendly hug, and immediately felt a little foolish. He wasn’t that close a friend, after all - they’d met a few times as children, and had only seen each other a few times since then. But Will seemed just as pleased to see her, and returned the embrace with no awkwardness.

“It’s good to see you, Jane,” he said with a quiet smile. “I was just on my way home from work. Do you want to grab a coffee?”

And that was how Jane ended up catching up on the last few years of her life with Will Stanton over a cup of much-needed caffeine. She was finishing up the last year of her Foundation training at a local medical clinic, and Will had just returned from an anthropological field study off in the Alps. They traded stories about work and studies as they waited for their coffees to arrive.

"It's wonderful to run into you," Jane said with absolute honesty, during a pause in their conversation. "This must sound silly to you, but those adventures with you and with Great-Uncle Merry were some of the most vivid memories of my childhood.” She shook her head and gave a self-conscious laugh. "It all seemed so dramatic then, like we were part of something grown-up and important. Sneaking around town, spying on suspicious strangers..."

“Not silly at all,” Will said with a small smile that was nevertheless warm. “I feel the same way. Nothing in the adult world quite measures up. Speaking of which - have you been in touch with Bran lately?" he asked.

Jane blushed a little. She'd dated Bran - mostly by letter - for about a year after their visit to Wales, but the distance had simply been too great. They hadn’t exactly had Facebook or email back then, and a long-distance relationship had been rather too ambitious for two teenagers who had never dated anyone before.

"No, we haven't been in touch since... since we stopped writing each other," she finished lamely.

"I've been keeping an eye on him every so often," Will said. "He's an architect now; has a firm of his own. He's done some beautiful work; you should look him up." He fished inside his wallet and pulled out a card. "Here, I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you."

Jane took the card. " _Cader Idris Architects_ ," she read out loud. "That's the name of one of the mountains over in Wales, right?" she asked. "'Seat of Arthur,' you said." 

"You have a good memory," he said.

Jane shrugged, ignoring the frisson that had crept up her spine at the sight of the Welsh name. "One of those things that sticks with you, I guess," she said, a little sheepish. "Barney was mad about King Arthur back then, I remember. He was so excited every time we took a trip out to Wales or Cornwall. It was all rather like Disneyland for him."

"How is Barney now?" Will asked.

"He's studying arts and literature at Cambridge," Jane said with a proud smile. "He's inherited our mum's talent - she's a painter, you know - and of course he's always loved old stories."

"Can't say I'm too surprised at his choice of field," Will said, wry. "And Simon?"

"Electrical engineer," she said. “He’s working on parts for mobile phones these days. Seems to enjoy it.”

“And in the end you’re the one who became a doctor, not him.”

Jane laughed, remembering how obsessed Simon had been with medicine back when they’d been in Wales with Will. “Yes, well,” she said with wry self-deprecation. “I think he was bright enough to realize that he could do something just as interesting without spending an entire decade getting qualified.” 

“You’ll be a brilliant doctor, Jane,” Will said, leaning in toward her across the small table. “I can’t think of anyone in the world I know who would make a better one.” His eyes held an earnest sincerity that most people their age would have been embarrassed to show - but Will had always been _more_ , somehow, than anyone she’d ever met from their generation. More what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say, but his words eased something in her she hadn’t even known was tense.

“Thanks,” she said. The words were entirely inadequate, but as she met his eyes she knew he understood.

She cleared her throat, a feeling little awkward with the emotional turn the conversation had taken. “By the way,” she said, changing the subject, “I’m having a little party in my flat for my birthday in a couple weeks. Simon and Barney would be there; we’d all love for you to come.”

“Maybe you could invite Bran too,” Will said, something sly in his smile, but Jane managed to keep herself from blushing this time.

“It would be wonderful to have all six of us together in one place again,” she said, and then caught herself. “I mean, all five of us.” The number five felt wrong in her mouth. _Six. It should be six,_ something whispered to her. “I can’t help thinking that Great-Uncle Merry should be there too,” she added wistfully, and then felt a sudden pang of guilt as she remembered --

\-- remembered that surely the subject was still sore for Will, an apology hovering on the tip of her tongue. It had been years since Gumerry had died, but Will had been closer to him than perhaps any of them…

But no, she remembered, reality reasserting itself over her confused thoughts. Will had only known Great-Uncle Merry over that one short week in Trewissick, during Easter holidays years ago. Why had she thought that Will knew him better than her own family?

“You must miss him very much,” Will was saying, voice gentle. Jane blinked and let out a breath she hadn’t realize she was holding.

“Yes,” she said, grasping at his words like a lifeline to pull herself out of the confusion in her mind. She looked down at her hands, realized that she was shredding the paper napkin in front of her, and forced herself to stop. “I’m just glad that we got to spend as much time with him as we did, before he passed away. I keep trying to remind myself that that’s the important thing.”

“That’s a good way of looking at it,” Will said.

**Author's Note:**

> Memory is the scribe of the soul. --Aristotle


End file.
